


Flying Blind

by GoldenGooseFreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Michael (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Literally Everyone is an Angel, M/M, Omega Dean, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, This is not a pretty fic, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenGooseFreckles/pseuds/GoldenGooseFreckles
Summary: THIS FIC HAS BEEN ABANDONED. IT IS FREE TO BE TAKEN AND WRITTEN HOWEVER YOU SEE FIT.Dean is an omega angel, destined for nothing more than what his father decides for him. When he is traded to a foreign land to be mated with an alpha who makes it clear he only has one use for Dean, it seems like there isn't hope for anything better for him. But when the alpha's brother starts to take an interest in him, he's not sure if his life can get worse or if he has a chance for it to get better. Caught in the middle of a conflict, it's all he can do just to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and reposted 6/8/17, beta'd by TheOriginalSamifer

Tawny wings rustled irritably as Dean paced the halls just outside the council room, in the easternmost room of the royal castle. His father, John Winchester, a mid ranking member of the royal council had been summoned on rather short notice to discuss recent developments with a neighboring region. Dean knew very little about it, and given his omega status, he probably wouldn’t be told anything about it, either. The only reason he was even here was because his father was a paranoid bastard at times who didn’t feel Dean could safely be left at home without some unknown alpha breaking in and stealing him away as though Dean were incapable of taking care of himself. Before he had presented, John had been grooming him as an alpha in the desperate hopes that Dean might be able to offer his services in the King’s army and bring the Winchester name more respect and a higher standing than they currently had. 

For as long as Dean could remember, his father had been obsessed with their standing in the Kanse region. Not content to be merely a lord with a large tract of land, John worked and meddled until he was finally brought in as a member of the King’s royal council, and from there he made sure he was absolutely indispensable. He’d had high hopes of at least one of his two sons presenting as an alpha to continue to add to the Winchester name, but when Dean presented as an omega and his younger brother Sam a beta a few years after, he seemed to have all but given up. John distanced himself almost completely from his sons, becoming cold and uncaring. Dean was forced to attend a school for omegas of respectable backgrounds, learning how to present himself to the public and schooled thoroughly on his new standing in society. Sam was largely ignored. As a beta, his options were numerous and no one was particularly concerned with what he might choose to do with his life.

The door to the council room opened with a thud, startling Dean into freezing mid pace. His father strode out, his face a blank mask as he approached Dean.

“Your presence has been requested. Follow me, and for the love of the gods, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

There was absolutely nothing good that could come out of the council requesting him, but there was also nothing to be gained from ignoring the summons either. With his stomach churning uncomfortably and his wings tucked as close to his back as possible, Dean slowly followed his father into the council meeting.

Some of the alphas he knew from them visiting his father at their home, and some he knew from his father talking about them, but there were three who weren’t familiar to him at all, their scents and clothing choice completely foreign to him. They stood near the head of the long oak table, talking in low voices to each other. It was impolite for Dean to raise his head and look directly at them, so all he could make of them was the lower half of their deep blue tunics and the very tips of their primary flight feathers. One had deep rust colored feathers with the barest hints of white showing on the undersides. The one to his right had onyx feathers with white striping along the tips. The last one had wings larger than the other two, a unique blue that almost looked dark grey as they shifted. The undersides were nearly solid white, with only the barest tips keeping the dark coloration.

The rust colored alpha walked around the table and approached Dean, stopping right in front of him. His scent was anything but pleasant, a harsh amalgamation of smells that burned Dean’s nose and threatened to make him sneeze. The alpha put his hand under Dean’s chin without warning, lifting his head and turning him left and right. Dean kept his eyes lowered, anger at the treatment barely kept from his face. When the alpha seemed to be finished with his inspection Dean jerked away, wings twitching as he struggled to control himself.

“He’s on the larger side, and not the gender I’d prefer, but he’s pretty enough. Bit of an attitude, though. I’d like to have one of my own physicians inspect him, confirm his purity and health. If he passes, he’ll do. When would we be able to arrange the appointment?”

Dean was so shocked by the alpha’s words he almost missed his father’s response indicating that he could be ready by evening, if their physician were available. He was being mated off. From the looks of it, this alpha was the one he was being mated off to. A shudder went through him at the thought. He had hoped the alpha wouldn’t notice his apprehension, but no such luck. With one last pause in front of Dean, the alpha turned to address his father.

“I expect that attitude to be curbed when he is presented to my physician. I’ll not have him making a scene. If he cannot be shown to be submissive, I will have to look elsewhere.”

Clearly dismissed, John walked stiffly out of the room with a nod, Dean following behind at a far more subdued pace. There was no point in fighting the decision. To openly oppose his father’s decision would be to invite severe punishment. It certainly wouldn’t save him from the situation he currently found himself in.

Once they had reached home, a relatively short walk from the castle grounds, John immediately grabbed his son by the shoulder, marching him to the back of the house to the bathing rooms. One of their maids immediately approached them, bowing low before standing back up and awaiting orders.

“He is to be scrubbed thoroughly. Scent neutral soaps only. Strip his feathers; they’re filthy. He must be made as presentable as possible, as he’s to be inspected tonight.” John walked to the door and paused, his deep brown wings twitching in irritation. “Dean, I expect perfect behavior of you tonight. If you fuck this up for me, you will regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

Dean refused to respond, instead standing stiffly while the maid stripped him of his sand colored tunic and undershirt, directing him to the large copper basin set in the middle of the room. She disappeared for a moment, returning with a few more maids armed with buckets of water. Once it was dumped into the tub, he was directed to climb in and sit. The maids immediately set to scrubbing him with stiff bristled brushes until his skin was an angry red and irritated. His hair was cleaned just as roughly, until he was sure he would end up half bald by the end of it.

The feather stripping was the worst. Normally an angel’s wings produced their own natural oils from two different glands on the wings, located near the joint between skin and feather and the uppermost arch of the wing. With minimal care, their wings were naturally coated in the oil, keeping the feathers slick and shiny. In Dean’s case, he cared little for the state of his feathers, and as a result, his wings were well coated in a rather thick layer of oil and dust from his time spent outside. 

He had one maid to each wing, scraping his feathers with a tool that basically looked like a short bladed paint scraper. They worked the unscented soap into his feathers once they were done removing the dirt and grime, Despite their best efforts, it nearly felt like they were trying to rip feathers out, and several light brown feathers were floating in the tepid bath water by the time they were rinsing the soap out.

Once they were finished, he stood and climbed out of the bath, far too used to being naked to be bothered by it. The maids dried him carefully, leaving no part of him untouched. They dressed him in a loose fitting grey tunic and breeches, leading him to his room as though he were still a small child. 

He flopped down on his stomach on his bed as soon as they left him, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure why he was so upset over the notion. He knew the day his father would arrange his mating was coming soon; at nearly twenty five he was far beyond the age most omegas were mated off. Still, the alpha he assumed was his intended seemed an absolutely atrocious specimen, at least if his scent was anything to go by. Most alphas smelled off to him, something vaguely sour and repulsive that made his nose itch and kept him from being even remotely interested. The only exception was Benny, one of the castle guards often assigned to escorting him about the city when his father was too preoccupied to do so himself. He didn’t exactly smell appealing, but the older alpha definitely lacked the more off putting scents most alphas seemed to emanate.

But this alpha, the one whose name he had never caught, had smelled worse than any alpha he had come across yet. Rotting garbage smelled better than he had, and Dean wasn’t sure how he was to keep his composure when every fiber of his being begged to flee the person who set him on edge so badly. If this was truly who he was supposed to be mated to, he prayed he managed to lose his sense of smell, or preferably, was meant to be seen in public and ignored the rest of the time. Dean genuinely hoped the terms of this arrangement didn’t include producing heirs, though with the demand for proof of his purity, he very much doubted that such a detail would be left out.

In no time at all, a pair of beta guards came to collect Dean. He wasn’t sure when he had nodded off, but he jolted awake when they entered his room unannounced. They escorted him out of the house and halfway across the city, to an unmarked building that amounted to little more than a hovel. The inside of the single room building consisted of a long table with leather straps hanging below it, a small shelf built into one wall containing an assortment of dried herbs and unnameable liquids, and a single rolling stand that Dean could only assume was meant to hold the tools healers often used. There was nobody else in the room, and the guards left as soon as they had delivered Dean, leaving him to his rather overactive imagination as to what this examination would entail.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when someone entered right behind him not long after his own arrival. Dean whirled around to see an older man walk in, reeking of ill intent and noticeably lacking any wings. A Lesser Being, then. It was a rare genetic anomaly that happened once every few hundred thousand births, but some angels were born without wings. In most cases it could be traced back to a certain lineage, but sometimes it sprang up for no rhyme or reason. Dean had never had reason to dislike those considered Lesser Beings, given his gender designation just barely had him ranking above them. But this one currently standing before him set him on edge like no other person had before, regardless of their rank. To his relief, one of the king’s own physicians walked in behind him, accompanied by one of the foreign alphas from the council room. The alpha’s blue black feathers twitched in irritation as he took a spot in the far corner to stand watch. Dean caught a glimpse of dark, messy hair before dropping his gaze and turning his attention to the two standing by the table.

“Hop on the table, omega. We have a lot to go over and I have things to do after this, so let’s get a move on, shall we?” The nasally voice of the wingless angel irritated Dean almost as much as his mere presence, but in the interest of getting things done and over with as quickly as possible, he acquiesced and climbed onto the table, pointedly ignoring the leather straps that hung in his peripheral vision. He’d barely been seated a second before hands were pulling at the tunic and breeches he was still wearing, stripping him in record time and pushing him to lay flat on his back. Dean shifted a few times to keep his wings relatively comfortable on the hard surface.

Just as he had gotten somewhat comfortable, he was dragged forward along the table until his ass rested perilously close to the edge. His knees were pushed apart and Dean barely had a second to breathe before he felt two fingers sliding into his channel. He bit back a pained grunt at the intrusion, his wings flaring slightly as he tried to breathe through the burn. The physician was anything but gentle, pressing along his walls harshly and forcing a whine from Dean’s throat when he grazed roughly against Dean’s prostate and slick gland. Bolts of pain shot along his spine as the glands were milked relentlessly, forcing them to swell and for slick to be produced. Dean forced himself to lay still, eyes squeezed shut and wings trembling at the sensation.

He was desperate to escape, fear being the only thing keeping him where he was. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight back, anything to get the violation to stop, though what terrified him the most was a tiny voice in the back of his head encouraging him to relax, accept it and enjoy what he could from it. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he felt tears beginning to form, willing himself to remain quiet and still in the hopes that it might be over that much faster.

Despite his best efforts the examination felt like it went on forever, Dean fighting to keep still, and against the urge to jerk away and flee the probing fingers. Slick dripped from him relentlessly, puddling beneath him and down to the floor in a constant, mocking splash. Surely it wasn’t this difficult to determine his virginal status. It wasn’t like he’d been allowed near anyone who might have taken his virginity without an escort. When he felt a third finger probing at his rim, he couldn’t help the involuntary flinch, barely succeeding at staying where he was on the table. He was panting now, fear and disgust wrapping around his mind as he struggled to block everything that was happening.

“That’s enough, Alastair. Surely you are competent enough to have determined his virginal status by now?” The dark winged angel in the corner spoke up, startling Dean and clearly irritating the physician who was currently three fingers deep in him. “Michael won’t appreciate being made to wait much longer.”

“I highly doubt Michael will be concerned about being made to wait, this one’s nearly perfect. Excellent slick production and quite sensitive. Definitely still virginal. Looks like he made a good choice.” Alastair’s voice almost seemed fuzzy to Dean’s ears as he felt the man withdraw his fingers, leaving Dean unattended on the table as he walked out the door, the second healer following behind him quickly. Dean scooted further up the table and curled in on himself, facing away from the room with a wing wrapped over him as though he could block out everything that had happened. He knew he would have to get up and leave eventually, but for now he wasn’t even sure he would be able to stand on his own. He felt disgusting and violated, and he was sure a normal examination was nothing like this.

Dean felt a warm, damp cloth being dropped by his feet, and it took everything in him not to fling himself off the table and away from the presence standing directly behind him.

“I’m not...I’m not allowed to actually touch you, Michael would scent it immediately if I had, but-” a tired sigh escaped the alpha, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I tried to convince Michael to use a different healer, but he frequently insists on Alastair, despite numerous complaints against him. I promise, I will do what I can to keep this from happening again. I’m sure my being here is making you even more uncomfortable, so I’ll just see myself out.” He paused at the door, cautious in his next request; “Please, don’t judge us all by my brother.”

Dean could only assume it was the dark winged angel who had stayed behind, and despite his fear, he was grateful that at least one of them cared enough to attempt to help. He lay shivering on the table for a few moments longer before sitting up gingerly and wiping himself down. He wasn’t surprised to see a bit of blood mixed in with the slick on the table, but it was all he could think about as he slowly got dressed and limped to the door. He wished he could say he was surprised to see the guards who had escorted him here standing just outside waiting for him, but he knew they cared about him as much as his father, and what they had heard probably didn’t bother them in the least. He returned home with them slowly, abandoning them to barricade himself in his room the second they made it. He couldn’t bear to face anyone right now, and he spent a long time staring at the ceiling of his room before finally falling into a restless sleep.

***

Two days later he was once again summoned to the council chamber, though this time he found he didn’t really care much what happened. He had spent most of the time after his examination locked in his room, barely eating and refusing to speak to anyone. He stood before the three foreign alphas, head down and wings drooping as he halfheartedly listened to the conversation going on around him.

“According to my healer, he passed his examination, and should be adequate for my needs. We will be returning home tomorrow, I’d like him ready to travel with us by then. As agreed, we will be leaving a small regiment of a thousand soldiers to aid in your defense, with another four thousand to be deployed upon our return. If that will be all, I have things I need to attend to while I’m still in the city.” The alpha, the one Dean assumed to be Michael, spoke with a casual indifference, clearly unconcerned with having purchased a person for what amounted to a very small price. The other two remained silent as well, and Dean found it harder to gauge how they felt about the situation.

“He could leave with you now if you’d like, he doesn’t own anything that couldn’t be easily replaced. I can send a few changes of clothes to him later this evening.” Dean wished he could feel something for his father’s quick dismissal, but he figured it would probably be better if he didn’t spend another night under the same roof as someone so eager to be rid of him.

“That will be fine. Castiel, Samandriel, please escort the omega to our camps. Ensure he is fed and has a place to sleep. Post a guard outside his tent, and begin preparations to leave tomorrow afternoon.” With that, Michael left the room, the other two shepherding Dean out shortly after.

The walk to their encampment only took about fifteen minutes, but to Dean it felt like an eternity. They passed outside the city walls to a veritable city of colorful tents, enough to house at least a thousand people. They walked through what looked like a main path between the tents, stopping at a small, pale blue square tent just outside of the main area. Dean was led inside to find a small pile of furs in a corner that he assumed was meant to serve as his bed and nothing else.

“I will bring you something to eat shortly. I know it isn’t much, but please try to make yourself comfortable. We’ll be leaving fairly early tomorrow, so please try to get some sleep. It’s a long journey back.” Dean recognized Castiel’s voice from before, and while it was a small comfort to know he wasn’t as harsh as his brother, he still found no comfort in the alpha’s presence.

Dean curled up in the pile of furs, facing away from the entrance to his tent and covering himself with a wing as best he could. He didn’t move even when someone brought him food, ignoring it in favor of examining the fabric in front of him. Sleep wouldn’t come for him, and he was awake when a small chest of clothes from his father was delivered and the uneaten food taken away. He didn’t sleep even when dawn peeked through the flap at the entrance of his tent, nor when the sounds of the camp waking up became louder. He was still staring at the same spot of fabric when someone came to collect him later that morning, when the sun had nearly risen to its highest point. He felt a bit of relief when he saw it was Castiel who had come to collect him, and it was enough to make him turn and face the alpha, eyes still cast down toward the ground.

“Michael wishes to leave within the hour. I was sent to collect you and ensure you are ready to leave.” The alpha turned to leave to allow him time to change, though not before turning back to glance at Dean once more. “I promise, it will be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, regardless of my brother’s intentions.”

‘And how exactly do you plan on doing that?’ Dean wanted to speak, he really did, but every time he tried to force the words past his throat, memories of how his father beat him for speaking back prevented a single word. He wished with everything that he was that he could trust and believe Castiel. In his experience, good things rarely happened, least of all to him. He let out a dejected sigh, rolling to his feet and pulled out a long, pale red tunic, skipping breeches since he doubted he’d have much use of them anymore. He could scent Castiel still standing just outside his tent, so he stepped outside and joined the alpha, glancing back at the walls of the city he had once called home before turning away, never expecting to see it again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, this fic is still being plotted out. Chapters are probably gonna stay a pretty consistent length, and I'm going to try not to let more than a month go in between posting. Once again beta'd TheOriginalSamifer.

The group gathering to set out for Dean’s new home-Sorone, Castiel had called it as they headed out- was considerably smaller than what had arrived, if the number of people milling about instead of taking down tents was any indication. The majority of the canvasses, poles, bedding, and food were already loaded on small ox drawn carts, each manned by two people. Castiel led Dean to a small number of mounted soldiers, where Michael appeared to be waiting for them atop a black mare. She was a rather large, heavy-boned creature, held tight and tense under Michael’s hold on the reins.

“Castiel tells me you didn’t eat last night.” Michael worded his statement carefully, making it clear that he was displeased with the news. Dean nodded silently, keeping his eyes trained on the mare’s feet. “I won’t tolerate insubordination. It’s a week home, weather permitting. You will eat something every day, or I will force you to. Am I understood?”

Another nod from Dean and Michael spurred the black mare on towards the front of the procession, as clear a dismissal as any. Shoulders slumped and wings drawn in tight, Dean let Castiel lead them to a spot near the rear, in front of the wagons loaded with cargo but well away from Michael and his guard. Dean found himself grateful he wasn’t the only one destined to walk, as it meant he would likely have very little trouble keeping up. It seemed most of the servants Michael chose to bring with him were also forced to walk, and given how well off the alpha seemed to be, Dean doubted it was because Michael couldn’t afford to bring transportation for every person. He wanted desperately to believe that Michael wasn’t an entirely awful person, but in the few moments he had met him, Dean hadn’t seen much of anything to convince him there was kindness to be found with the man.

He didn’t have long to wait before the procession began to move, and Dean was glad to find out his assumption about the general speed of the line being slow was rather accurate. He passed the time making idle conversation with Castiel, though there was little he could actually tell the younger alpha. For the most part it was Dean listening while Castiel told him about where they were heading, what the land was like, how friendly the locals were, and what the city they were heading to looked like. Castiel had grown up in the royal castle of his parents, and he knew every hidden or little used path there was to find, as well as all the best spots to get away from everyone and be by yourself for a while. Dean appreciated the alpha’s attention, the platonic nature of Castiel’s interest was a refreshing change.

The first day of their journey seemed to drag on forever. The caravan moved at a rather sedate pace, a little over thirty miles being covered the first day. He wasn’t sure exactly how far Sorone was from Kanse, but it didn’t seem likely that they would make it very far if they were only planning on traveling for a week. Dean barely stomached the dried venison Castiel encouraged him to eat, despite it once being one of his favorite foods. He wasn’t even sure why he was no longer hungry, but eating felt like an impossible task, often leaving him nauseous for hours afterward.

The next day was more of the same, a pace that barely seemed to cover any ground and left a lot of time for Castiel to continue telling him everything he could about Sorone and the more favorable members of his rather large family. Occasionally some mounted soldiers patrolled up and down the lines of servants, foot soldiers, and carts, and as the week wore on, Michael seemed to be riding with them more and more often. Dean began to dread hearing the sounds of horses moving back and forth. Every pass usually ended with Michael watching Dean intently, leaving him feeling nervous and exposed. Despite the steady pace of the caravan, they made good time. By the end of the seventh day, the bright, gleaming walls surrounding the capital city of Sorone were visible, the setting sun casting a pale orange glow against the off-white stone. They reached the city gates by nightfall, everyone filing through slowly with the exhaustion of a weeklong march across the country. 

The group started separating once it reached the courtyard, carts and wagons full of equipment leaving to be unloaded and animals stabled, while servants scattered off to what Dean could only assume was their normal duties when they weren’t required to set up and dismantle massive camps. Soon only Dean, Castiel and a few guards were left, Michael passing out orders before even they left, leaving just the three of them.

“Castiel, take him to the spare room on the third floor. You know which one I’m talking about. I have already posted guard outside the doors, so once you have delivered him, you are dismissed. I will be up momentarily, so I suggest you make yourself scarce as quickly as possible.” Michael spoke directly to his brother without once acknowledging the omega standing next to him, walking the large black mare to the stables without even so much as waiting for a response.

Dean had seen the look of disgust that had crossed Castiel’s face as his brother spoke, and as the alpha led him in silence through the massive halls of the castle, he could feel his apprehension growing. When they reached a small wooden door in a relatively unused and dusty corner of the castle, Dean could see why Castiel didn’t particularly like this place. When the door was swung open, it revealed a very small room, ten paces across at best, with no window, decoration or even real furnishings to speak of. There was a pile of furs and straw in one corner of the room, with a very small fireplace already lit and absolutely nothing else. There wasn’t even room to properly stretch his wings to their full length.

“I know how bad this looks, and I promise I’ll do what I can to get you better accommodations, but for right now, just please trust me that I’m doing everything I can to protect you.” Castiel spoke quietly, but with a determination in his voice that seemed to calm Dean a bit. It was nice to know there was at least one person who seemed to care about him. Castiel walked over to where Dean was standing in the middle of the room, placing his hand on Dean’s cheek and gently guiding the omega to look him in the face. “My brother doesn’t know what treasure he has found…”

Dean was frozen in place for a moment, jumping when Castiel let go and walked out the door, glancing back at him once before closing the door and leaving Dean to his thoughts and the dim, flickering light of the small fire. Not since he had presented had someone bothered to show him anything but indifference. Certainly no one had spoken about him as if he were someone to be appreciated. Dean wasn’t sure exactly what Castiel’s intentions were, but the alpha’s confession had him feeling both comforted and confused.

Without knowing what else to do, Dean walked over to the pile of furs, spreading them out a bit and sitting down in the middle of the pile. He spread his wings and bit and stretched back against the wall, trying to ease some of the tension he had been carrying since he had left. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out everything around him.

True to his word, however, the door opened to reveal Michael not more than thirty minutes after Castiel had brought him to this room. Michael shut the door and bolted it, stripping off his travel cloak and dark blue tunic, leaving them in a heap in one corner of the room. Rust wings fluttered and stretched momentarily before settling, and Dean caught a glimpse of a well toned torso before dropping his gaze to the floor again.

“Stand and come before me, omega. I would like to see for myself what I have purchased.” Dean swallowed nervously, but stood and approached the alpha all the same. Maybe that was all Michael wanted. Maybe if he examined Dean for himself, he would be satisfied, and leave anything else he might want to another day. 

Hands pulled at his light tunic, pulling it up and over his head and discarding it near the clothes already on the floor. Michael worked at his breeches next, deft fingers quickly untying the string holding them up and sliding them down his hips, leaving them to pool at his ankles. Michael cued him to kick them off towards his tunic, and Dean barely managed without tripping over them, trembling slightly when he was left completely bare. He was aware of Michael’s piercing gaze, staring at a spot on the floor in an effort not to react to the evaluation and treatment one usually reserves for livestock they intended to purchase. 

Dean flinched when Michael pressed on his shoulders, forcing him to turn around, exposing his back to the alpha. His tawny wings twitched and flexed minutely, struggling to keep still. Hands ran along his back, softly feeling the skin from his wings all the way down to his hips. Dean clenched his eyes shut when Michael started to touch his bare ass, kneading and pulling his cheeks apart as the harsh scent of alpha arousal started to fill the air. He couldn’t help the terrified whimper that escaped at the contact of Michael pressing against his back. Every instinct in him screamed to run, to open his wings in defiance and force the alpha back. The knowledge that he was in Michael’s domain and would likely be subject to severe beatings if he tried to move was the only thing keeping him still.

“You smell divine…” Dean felt Michael lean closer and inhale deeply, “Not my preferred gender, but I can have that taken care of relatively easily. In the meantime, present for me, omega.” Dean didn’t move immediately, fear keeping him from reacting. Michael kicked his legs out from under him, forcing Dean to drop to his knees with a pained grunt. A hand at the back of his neck forced him to bend until his face was touching the cold floor, sliding back to grip his left wing when Michael was satisfied with how Dean was positioned. Michael’s knee forced his legs apart, leaving him spread wide and vulnerable. An explorative finger probed at his entrance, the touch dry and intrusive. Dean lurched forward in a desperate bid to escape the alpha pinning him down, though all he managed to achieve was a far more uncomfortable position being pressed into the floor by an irritated Michael. His wing was being held down harshly, waves of pain coursing through him as Michael’s grip tightened almost every time Dean so much as twitched.

The sound of Michael spitting into his palm and slicking his cock with it solidified what was happening in Dean’s mind, and with a resigned whimper he dropped his forehead to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and did his level best to relax his muscles, but failed to, tensing even more when he felt something large and blunt pressing into him. Dean couldn’t help but cry out in pain. Spit was not nearly slick enough to dull the burn of being penetrated without any kind of preparation. Slowly Michael pulled out and pushed back in, a steady trickle of blood slicking the way as he moved. Dean shook as Michael moved, the burn quickly turning into something sharper as slick started to mix with his blood. The longer Michael stimulated his gland, the more slick he produced, which was the only thing keeping him from screaming himself hoarse with every thrust.

Everything slowly faded into a blur, each thrust burning slightly less than the last. Michael was pounding into him by the end, a few harsh, deep thrusts slamming Dean into the floor hard enough to bruise. He barely managed to stay silent as Michael’s knot caught, stretching him even further and renewing the burning sensation all over again. He flinched when he felt Michael’s breath against his neck, struggling futilely to move away from the alpha’s teeth. 

“Did you think I would bite, little omega? Luckily for you, I’m not required to mate the whore purchased to sire my heir. You needn’t worry about me sticking my teeth in you, I’m saving that for someone who’s actually worthy of such an act.” Dean was embarrassed to feel tears in his eyes, though he supposed it could have ended far worse. He breathed through the worst of it, drifting off for a little bit until he felt Michael’s knot slip free some time later. He shivered at the sensation, dragging himself slowly into the corner with the fur pile the moment he didn’t feel Michael hanging over him anymore. When the door to his room slammed shut a few minutes later, he struggled to force his mind blank as the silence of the room served to draw his attention to every ache. The fear that had kept him from fighting back was gone, replaced with shame and confusion. Not once had he imagined that he would be so incapable of defending himself, and he had no idea what he had done wrong. His mind kept replaying it over and over, until exhaustion finally overtook him and he was left unaware for a few short, blissful hours.

***

The next few weeks were filled with largely the same, the only changes when Michael chose to visit him two or three times a day instead of just once, or sometimes not at all. He was fed once a day at the same time, and it was always the same stale bread with a small, random assortment of wilted vegetables or soft, half rotted fruits. Every morning a fresh bucket of water was brought in, which was all he was allowed for the day. After Michael’s visits, he was left to tend to his own wounds, though if they were bad enough, a maid would come in shortly after Michael left to clean him up. He’d lost a fair amount of weight, and as every day passed, he’d lost almost all hope of his situation improving.

Dean knew his heat was coming up very soon, and he was sure Michael was going to try to get him to catch with this cycle. He had been hoping that he might be able to see Castiel before that happened, but whether it was due to Michael preventing it or Castiel simply choosing to avoid Dean, he hadn’t seen the younger alpha since he had arrived here. He knew better than to place much faith in Castiel rescuing him from his situation, but the longer he went without seeing the only friendly face he’d known since his purchase, the more he started to question the younger alpha’s intentions.

Dean estimated that the day was roughly half over, as it was a bit earlier than Michael usually tended to show up this time. He had learned quickly not to struggle against Michael, several bruises and cuts along his torso were the price paid for learning it the hard way. Instead he willed his body pliant and loose, his mind and voice silent, with only the rare whimper escaping his lips on a particularly hard hit, or in this case, when Michael’s knot caught when he was least expecting it.

He’d gotten used to bleeding every time Michael visited him, and it was likely only due to his quick healing that he hadn’t suffered any permanent damage yet. Michael didn’t knot him every time, but the few times he did, Dean ended up bleeding for ages afterwards. Even when the alpha had someone come in to clean him up, they didn’t have enough medical knowledge to help him, likely an intentional decision by Michael, as Dean was nearly always left lethargic and disoriented for hours after a particularly rough visit, which meant less chance for Dean to be able to fight back.

Michael hadn’t been knotted longer than five minutes before a knock at the door sounded, startling Dean out of his daze and drawing an agitated groan from Michael.

“One moment!” Dean clenched when Michael shifted, suddenly terrified of what the alpha seemed to be planning. He’d never seen it for himself, but he’d heard the stories of omegas who’d had a knot forcefully removed before it had gone down enough to do so safely. They usually ended up in the care of a healer for weeks, the tearing and bleeding nearly life threatening in some situations. 

Dean’s fears were well founded when what felt like seconds later Michael jerked back harshly, his knot slipping free with a wet pop and a choked cry of pain. Dean was barely aware of Michael moving to clean himself up and answer the door while he curled up as much as he could to wait out the burning throb that wracked his body every few seconds. He struggled to breathe through it, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He could feel blood trickling down his thighs in thick rivulets, and the very real concern that he had been permanently damaged terrified him with every burning pulse. 

“It’s about time you showed up Alastair. You can begin immediately if you’d like, I was hoping to be able to watch this procedure.” Michael closed the door behind Alastair, following the wingless angel to where Dean lay shaking on the floor. Dean barely reacted to the new presence, though there was a small thought at the back of his mind screaming that he should be very concerned that the man was so close to him.

“I”m just doing the pinioning tonight, I still need to prepare for his...other surgery. Don’t want him dying on you.” Alastair regarded Dean with little emotion showing, dropping to push Dean off of his side and onto his belly before moving to straddle the omega, though not before a momentary pause. “Felt the need to make him bleed before I could touch him, huh? You sure that doesn’t need looked at?”

“He should be fine, I held back.”

“If you say so. Hand me the rope, please. I’d rather he not decide to start fighting me halfway through this. Makes it much easier to do some permanent damage.” Dean tried his best to block out everything going on, but the feel of Alastair pulling his arms behind his back and tying them to each other had his heart racing. When Alastair pulled his left wing down to sit over where his arms were bound and tied the limb to the others, he started panicking, struggling weakly to move out from under Alastair. Every move lit his ass and lower back on fire, and it was only moments before he gave up, panting hard as he waited for the pain to subside again.

Less than a minute after Alastair had tied him, the man got up, walking over to a small leather bag Dean hadn’t noticed him bring in. He pulled out a short knife and a few sets of what looked like locking tweezers before walking back to Dean, sitting down on the edge of the pile of furs and pulling Dean’s free wing to sit in his lap. He felt over the outermost bone, pinching down hard near the joint until he caught the gland sitting just in the crook of his wing.

“I’ve found that it’s easier to break the bone just to the outside of the joint. Leave the gland intact, there’s less manual maintenance that needs to be done with the wing later in life. What I’ll do here is strip the feathers in a line about here,” Alastair pinched Dean’s wing particularly hard in a spot just above the gland. “And cut the skin from the bone right about here. Then, I’ll make a small dent in the bone, and try to break it as cleanly as possible. No guarantees, though, not at his age. Much easier to get it done when they’re young.” 

Dean barely heard a word Alastair had said, most of it having been drowned out by his pulse racing in his ears. He had heard enough though, and despite the fact that it was likely futile, he began thinking of any way he could to escape. He was still thinking of possible escape routes, right up until Alastair grabbed hold of the end of his wing and started pulling feathers. Dean let out a startled yelp at the first pull, the burn of multiple feathers being pulled at once momentarily drowning out everything else that ached. Every pull was another burn, and Dean couldn’t help but grunt in pain at a few of the harsher tugs.

Soon enough Alastair was satisfied with the strip of bare skin he had defeathered, turning it a bit in his grip. Without warning, he tucked the wing under his leg, pinning it and preventing Dean from wiggling out of his grasp. Alastair grabbed the short knife from where it sat right next to him, and started cutting into the bared skin. Dean couldn’t help the scream this time, the sharp stabbing pain radiating out from his wing was starting to overcome conscious thought. Alastair didn’t pay him a bit of mind, happily cutting through a piece of skin before pinching it off with one of the locking tweezers. He wasn’t aware of how much Alastair had cut until the man stopped, setting down his two remaining tweezers and pulling the now separated skin back away from where he had cut.

Dean hadn’t meant to look, but when no new cuts had been made, he had to glance up and see why. He had not been prepared to see Alastair pulling skin back away from bone, exposing a tiny strip of shining pink and white. He looked away immediately, feeling light headed and nauseated. The feeling of metal scraping against bone had him crying out against the terrifying feeling, bracing himself for the feel of a broken bone next. He felt Alastair lining the knife up against the bone, steadily increasing the pressure on either side and he whimpered, awaiting the inevitable.

The sound of bone snapping had him jerking away in shock, surprised when he could pull his wing back without it being held down tightly. He couldn’t bear to look, instead keeping his eyes screwed tightly shut as he waited for Alastair to move on to his next wing.

Instead, he heard a distinctly gravelly voice threatening Alastair, then Michael, then calling his name several times. Dean tried in vain to process what was going on, but everything sounded muddied and distant, and he still hadn’t dared to open his eyes. When he felt hands pulling at the rope pinning his good wing to his back, Dean flinched and tried to scoot forward and away. The hands returned, this time rubbing soothingly along his shoulders before moving back to untie the rope. As soon as his hands were free Dean pulled them forward, burying his head in them until he didn’t feel quite so overwhelmed.

“Michael, you have ten seconds to explain to me what is going on here, because I’m not entirely sure what to make of what I’m seeing.” The sound of a stern female voice had Dean glancing up through watery vision to see the blurred outline of a rather tall, imposing female alpha.

“I don’t see anything that needs explaining, I can do with my property as I please, and right now, I’m having my physician take measures to prevent him from fighting back and potentially injuring someone.” Michael’s voice was void of emotion, speaking as though Dean were little more than a dog whose tail needed docking.

“Excuse me? This is the Winchester omega, is he not? I sent you to Kanse to collect a mate, not a slave! He’s not your property, and even if he was, this is beyond cruel and unusual punishment. Of course, from what I’ve heard from the guards and your physician’s assistants, not only was he treated worse than a prisoner, you were planning to have him mutilated!” The woman got right up in Michael’s face, anger practically radiating off of her in visible waves.

“I don’t see why that’s such a big issue, I know you’ve had it done to a few of the servants. Besides, I was under the assumption that I didn't need to mate him, that he was only supposed to sire an heir.”

“Those servants assaulted someone! It was a fit punishment for their crime. Clearly this poor creature has done nothing to deserve such treatment! I doubt you’ve even let him out of this box you call a room since you brought him home--It reeks in here. Frankly I’m surprised he hasn’t succumbed to illness yet. Mating wasn't necessary, but that didn't give you license to treat him like livestock!” The woman took a moment to regard Michael, an unreadable expression flashing across her face for a moment before disappearing. “Michael Allen Novak, for atrocious acts of malice and ill intent toward an undeserving person, and the one chosen to bear children for you no less, I hereby exile you until you are capable of showing true remorse for your actions. As for Alastair here, lock him in the dungeons for a while until I know what to do with him.” The sound of four sets of footsteps leaving the room was almost as much of a relief as the sounds of Michael and Alastair trying in vain to voice their dissent as they were forcibly removed.

“Dean? You with me?” If Dean was surprised to see Castiel looming over him, he didn’t show it. Instead he grunted in acknowledgement, dropping his head back to the floor in exhaustion. “Dean, listen to me. We have to get you stitched up and moved to somewhere more comfortable, can you hang on long enough for that?”

Dean still didn’t answer, just nodded silently. Everything was a jumble in his head, a potent mix of fear, confusion and pain keeping him from thinking clearly. For weeks he had hoped to see Castiel, had hoped that the alpha would prevent Michael’s cruelties like he had promised, and for weeks Dean hadn’t even caught so much as a whiff of him. He wanted to be mad, to be angry at the alpha he felt abandoned by, but he didn’t have the energy to be upset, so instead he continued to lay on the floor, twin points of pain throbbing steadily in time with his heartbeat to distract him.

It felt like hours, though it was likely only minutes, before a nurse and a healer walked in, immediately moving over towards Dean and poking at his sorest spots, muttering quietly to themselves as they looked him over. The nurse reached behind her to pull a small jar out of a leather bag, coating one of her fingers in the odd smelling mixture inside. Despite the fact that she had already been examining his backside, Dean still flinched when he felt the cold ointment pressing against his entrance. Even the light touch had him hissing in pain, and it was only due to his increasing exhaustion that he didn’t try to move away from the unwelcome touch.

“Sorry hon, I know that had to hurt like hell. You’re torn up pretty good though, and that stuff will help keep it from getting infected.” Dean was surprised the young blonde nurse bothered addressing him directly, completely unsure how to react. “I’m Jo, and this is my mom, Ellen. The good news is everything looks superficial, the bad news is it’s gonna hurt for a while. Mom’s gonna stitch you up as soon as the numbing stuff kicks in, and then we’ll get you situated in your own room with a warm bath and a change of clothes.”

Without waiting for a response from Dean, Jo turned back to the small bag, pulling out a different jar and handing it to the person Jo had named her mother. Ellen held his wing gently, and Dean was surprised to see it was still intact, even if his primary feathers were coated in blood. He cried out when Ellen rubbed the liquid into his skin, but it didn’t take long before feeling in the tip of his wing all but vanished. Dean slumped against the floor in relief, drifting in and out of consciousness to the image of Ellen tying his skin together with a needle and some uncomfortably thick thread.

Dean was forced awake by Ellen tying off a strip of cloth she wrapped around the arch of his wing, limiting the mobility of the limb. Jo produced a soft, aged blanket seemingly out of thin air, wrapping it around Dean and slowly encouraging him to stand.

“We’ve got a room set up for you, warm water is being brought up as we speak. We’ll get you clean, dressed and fed and let you try to get some sleep.” Jo allowed Dean to lean on him for support the entire long walk down the hall and up a flight of stairs, Castiel trailing behind them slowly. “Mom will likely be the one to check in on you in the morning, so I apologize if she ends up terrifying you.”

***

While the bath was warm and possibly the most relaxing thing he’d felt in a long time, it was the room itself Dean marveled at. Easily twice the size of his old room back in Kanse, the bed was massive and ridiculously soft. Large, ornate windows lined one entire wall, meaning Dean could light every single corner of his room if he really wanted to. Most of the blinds and bedsheets in the room were done in a deep red and gold scheme, with bits of light blue cloth here and there to brighten things up a bit. The large copper tub sat in one corner along with a small shelf full of soaps and oils of all scents and varieties. Small trinkets and valuable decorations lined the walls and shelves and a fireplace along one wall made it one of the most comfortable rooms he had ever been in.

Outside of Ellen and the occasional servant bringing food, nobody bothered Dean the first day, though even if they had, he spent most of the day attempting to sleep. He rarely succeeded, dozing off for a few minutes at a time before snapping awake, looking for a threat until he remembered what had happened the night before and settling back down against the softness of the bed. The entire day he wondered if Michael would return for him, and if he did, what Dean would do. Fear and pain kept him from defending himself before, and he wasn’t sure how an omega attacking an alpha would be received, even if it seemed Castiel and the woman from yesterday held omegas in higher regards than anyone else he had met.

The second day went much the same as the first, though Dean could feel his heat coming up. It always started the same, with a few minor cramps and a small fever spiking up a day or so before. All he felt at the moment were a few small twinges in his lower abdomen that were easily ignored with the constant dull ache he still felt in his wing. 

At some point, Dean must have dozed off, for when he woke up again, it was dark and someone was knocking on his door. Dean yelled for them to come in like he always did, it was likely one of the servants with something to eat. 

Instead, Castiel walked through the door, a tray full of food in one hand and a small pitcher of something in his other. The alpha pushed the door shut with his hip, carrying the tray and pitcher over and setting them down on the table.

“May I stay and speak with you?” Castiel spoke quietly, a hint of nervousness in his tone. Dean was still wrestling with his anger at Castiel, but the feeling wasn’t as strong as he expected it should be, but he still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt, and his curiosity as to what Castiel had to say was stronger. Dean nodded his acceptance, though he still moved to the head of the bed when Castiel sat at the end of it. 

“I wanted to start off by apologizing. Truth be told, nobody knew Michael could be so cruel. The moment I got word of what was happening, I brought it to our mother. She refused to act until she had absolute proof, however, and that took time to get. For that, I am sorry. I promised you I wouldn’t let Michael harm you and I failed.” Castiel paused long enough to allow Dean to speak if he wanted to, but when it was met with nothing but silence, he sighed softly and continued. “I can understand if you can’t forgive me. There’s no excuse for how long Michael was allowed to continue his abuses.”

Dean continued to remain silent, though now it was for an entirely different reason. Maybe he’d been too sore and out of it to notice before, or maybe the proximity of an alpha that wasn’t completely repugnant speeding the process along, but his heat was imminent. Hours out, rather than the day or so he thought he would have. Worse, Castiel seemed to finally scent Dean’s problem. Dean backed against the wall behind him when the alpha stood from the bed and moved closer to him, his mind racing with panic.

“Dean, it’s okay. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I just need you to drink this for me. I had a feeling your heat would be coming soon, so I had Ellen brew a tea that should take care of the worst of your symptoms. Once you’ve done that, I’ll go and get her for you. You’re still not back to yourself, and I would hate to see you get worse if it can be helped.” 

True to his word, Castiel waited until Dean had finished most of the tea in the pitcher before he collected it from him and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Dean wasn’t sure how this heat was going to progress, but he was endlessly grateful he wasn’t spending it at Michael’s mercy. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves as he felt the cramps increase in intensity along with his temperature. The meaning behind Castiel’s words were confusing at best, and maddeningly unhelpful in cooling his heat down. He appreciated the alpha’s concerns, but he didn’t know if it meant Castiel wanted to touch him or if he was just trying to be courteous. Whatever happened, it was going to be a long week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I'm not dead!
> 
> It's been a rough few months, but I'm on new meds. I won't promise updates will be regular, but they will still be occuring.
> 
> Edited once again by the wonderful TheOriginalSamifer

Three days. Three days of an uncontrollable fever, cramps and a need so intense Dean’s knees were bruised and aching from trying to present and dropping back onto whatever surface he had been on when he realized what he was doing. Castiel was a near constant presence during all of it, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was grateful for the alpha or not. His heat seemed far worse than it ever had, and he was sure it was due to the constant barrage of pheromones urging his hormones into overdrive. On the other hand, Castiel had been nothing but attentive, ensuring Dean drank regularly and changing the bandages on his wing every day. Ellen stopped by regularly as well, usually with a pitcher of tea that was supposed to be helping to suppress his heat.

Dean still didn’t trust the alpha, even when it was obvious Castiel was exhibiting some serious willpower every time he got a strong whiff of Dean’s heat scent. He knew it wasn’t quite rational, a fear left over from his time with Michael. But Castiel almost never touched Dean without his permission, even for something as simple as removing a bandage and cleaning around stitches. Even now, with Ellen in the room and Dean mostly out of it due to his fever, Castiel’s primary focus was on his wellbeing.

“I don’t think this heat is normal. Anna never had heats like this, even when she was being courted.” Castiel’s voice was low and quiet, almost as though he were afraid of Dean overhearing him. “I’ve been keeping him hydrated and he’s been taking the tea regularly, but it’s been three days and his fever has only gotten worse.”

“I doubt you being here all day is doing him any favors, Cas. This place reeks of alpha, which is exactly what his body wants right now.” Ellen kept her voice just as quiet, the sounds of her pouring a fresh pot of tea into the pitcher nearly drowning her out. A hand on his forehead made him flinch involuntarily, silencing the both of them for a moment until they were sure he wasn’t going to try to get up. “I’d be willing to bet he’s got an infection making everything worse, too. You’re right, his temperature is far higher than it should be. I can bring up a few herbs to help bring it back down while I have the servants bring up some tepid water to soak him in for the time being.”

Dean was fairly sure he was imagining them talking to each other after that, especially when a cool hand started stroking his left shoulder absentmindedly. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, idly listening to the sound of people coming in and out of his room, water sloshing around nearby accompanying the random footsteps. Eventually they too stopped, leaving Dean with the cool hand rubbing small circles into his shoulder. He leaned toward the touch, not thinking about anything beyond how good it felt to be touched and how much nicer it would be if that hand could just move lower and help him stave off his heat.

“Dean? Dean, I know you can hear me. Maybe not very well, but I know you’re in there somewhere.” Castiel’s breath brushed past Dean’s ear softly, stirring him from his rapidly forming fantasy and forcing him to pay attention to reality. The gentle touch to his shoulder never stopped, and for a moment Dean wasn’t sure if he should be running away from it or leaning into it even more than he already was. The thought was gone as soon as it appeared, as he leaned into the touch without hesitation. “I need to pick you up and carry you to the tub, but I didn’t want to wake you up while doing it and send you into a panic.” 

That again, that absolutely could have been added didn’t need to be said; the first day of Dean’s heat, Castiel had found him passed out in a corner of his room, buck naked and shivering. Without thinking, Castiel had scooped Dean up from the floor and was halfway back to his bed before Dean had woken up, panicked at being carried by an unknown alpha and lashed out blindly, landing Castiel with a black eye and a bloody nose while Dean landed hard on the floor. Even though Castiel was the one bleeding, he had apologized repeatedly until Dean had told him to shut up before asking for his help getting back onto the bed.

Dean nodded at Castiel’s request, or at least he assumed he did, as Castiel carefully wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulled him to sitting. When Castiel put an arm under his legs to lift him off the bed, Dean weakly grabbed for the alpha, vaguely aware that he should be concerned that he could barely brush Castiel’s neck before he let his arm collapse into his lap. Castiel didn’t seem to mind, laughing quietly as he carried Dean to the copper tub. He slowly lowered Dean into the lukewarm water, tightening his grip slightly when Dean tried to lurch forward away from the sudden chill soaking his sleep pants. It didn’t take long for him to relax into the tub however, and soon Castiel was letting him go in favor of standing up to retrieve a towel.

In the haze of his fever, Dean found himself staring at Castiel’s wings as the alpha walked across the room. The arches appeared holographic, with multiple shades of gray and tan mixing together in the marginal coverts. Below them were a deep shade of blue, dark enough to appear black until Castiel stepped into the light. His secondary and primary feathers were a stunning shade of light blue, almost identical to his eyes and just as hard to look away from. Dean was reminded of the dull coloration of his own wings draped across the tub’s lip, and he pulled them in just a bit more as though he could hide their tawny brown markings.

Dean must have fallen asleep at some point as he woke up to the feel of Castiel checking his temperature with the back of his hand pressed to Dean’s forehead. The water felt considerably colder now than when he had been put in, leaving Dean to wonder just how long Castiel had let him sleep. He was shivering noticeably, and as soon as Castiel realized he was awake, a pair of hands was helping Dean to stand and wrap himself up in a soft towel warmed by the fireplace.

“Your fever is down considerably, but it’s still higher than I’m comfortable with. Ellen brought up a few herbs to help keep it down, they should be done brewing soon.” As soon as Dean was standing relatively steadily, Castiel produced a pair of soft deerskin pants, holding them on one arm while holding the towel up in an effort to at least pretend Dean had any reason to be concerned with modesty anymore. Once Dean was done changing, Castiel helped him walk over to his bed, where he immediately collapsed and burrowed under the covers. Castiel brought over a small clay cup filled with an odd smelling liquid, drinking it only at the alpha’s insistence. Not long after he had finished the cup, Dean found himself drifting off again, his mind swirling with thoughts of the alpha who had barely left his side and why Dean still struggled with trusting him.

It wasn’t more than a few hours later when Dean was woken up again, this time by a rather nasty wave of his heat. His gut started cramping and churning, his fever spiking dangerously high as his thoughts were filled with little more than how to get it all to stop, and getting the alpha sitting next to his bed to help. Slick soaked the deerskin pants Castiel had given him after the bath, and Dean could feel himself struggling to roll over and present despite the ache in his joints from attempting to do so far too many times over the last few days.

“Cas…” It had taken Dean several minutes to breathe through the worst of the hormone surge before he felt he could speak to Castiel without begging the man to give him the knot his body thought he desperately needed. He could see the alpha sitting in a chair next to his bed, head bowed and body held taut as Castiel struggled to hold his own instincts at bay. At the sound of Dean’s voice, Castiel gave up trying to control himself, standing immediately and rushing to Dean’s side.

“What do you need?”

“I-I need…” Dean took a deep breath, slowly pushing himself to roll over onto his side. “I need you. Hurts.”

Desperation had led to Dean asking Castiel for help, exhaustion and pain overcoming his fear for a moment. Honestly, he was still terrified that Castiel would finally give in and succumb to his instincts and take Dean, so when the alpha slowly crawled onto the bed and pulled him into his arm, Dean tensed up, waiting for the inevitable.

Instead, Castiel simply shifted so Dean’s head was pillowed on his left arm while his right started rubbing slow, gentle circles over his belly, carefully easing the cramps. The longer he was held in Castiel’s arms, the weaker his heat became until eventually the need and discomfort were gone altogether. Castiel didn’t move, just kept rubbing circles into Dean’s bare skin. Eventually the movement slowed and stopped completely, soft snores coming from the alpha. The warmth from his hand still resting on Dean felt comforting despite his mistrust, and it wasn’t long before Dean finally fell asleep too.

***

The next morning saw Dean waking up with only the faintest hint of his heat, a slight fever the only thing remaining. Castiel was still holding him carefully, a wing draped over the both of them. Dean was still wary of the alpha, but the outright fear felt the past week was replaced, mostly with confusion. His mind constantly reminded him of his time spent with Michael any time he thought he was starting to get comfortable with Castiel, but the angel’s restraint throughout his heat had him reconsidering. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to trust the alpha, but he wasn’t absolutely terrified of what might happen anymore, either. Instead he fell somewhere in the middle, uncomfortable around him and yet willing to give him a chance.

A knock on the door startled Castiel awake, the alpha nearly rolling off the bed in his haste to disentangle himself from Dean. Ellen let herself in with a smirk, glancing at the pair for a moment before moving around the room, pulling back blinds and opening windows as she went.

“As adorable as you two are, Cassie, I need you to make yourself scarce. Your mother’s looking for you. Dean, I need to give you a quick once over and then we need to go over a few things. Move your ass, I’ve got a lot to do today.” Castiel didn’t wait another second, with only a last backward glance towards Dean before disappearing out the door.

“What things do we need to go over?”

“Nothing too important, that’s being saved for later. His mother wants to meet with you tomorrow, I just want you to be prepared for it. She’s not an outright awful person, but she’s spent entirely too long running this country and tends to forget not to let it run into the rest of her life. You’ll find out when you meet her. It should at least explain why Cas bolted out of here. Now, I just need you to sit up for me and hold still. You’re healthy enough to make it through a heat without any obvious complications, so I just need to check the basics today. In a couple of weeks or so, I’ll want to do a more thorough physical, but we’ll worry about that when we get to it.”

Dean sat silently while Ellen checked all of his vitals, stripped the bandage from his wing and rubbed a harsh smelling paste into the skin around the stitches. There were no feathers growing in yet, but a dull itch under the skin meant it couldn’t be too long before they did. She left the bandages off, claiming it was healed enough to be left uncovered and that the stitches should be able to come out within the next week or so. Ellen left him with a small jar of the paste and reassurance that the next day would go fine.

***

The long walk to the private meeting room the next morning was only made more nerve wracking with the presence of two guards escorting him, both tall silent alphas who set Dean on edge the longer he was near them. They insisted that it was at the queen’s request, a precaution after Michael’s behavior. The knowledge did nothing to calm his fears, however, and the sight of the door to the chambers was a welcome sight. One guard opened the door and nodded him through, shutting it behind Dean with a quiet click.

In front of him sat a woman with her brown hair tied back immaculately, the desk she was sitting at an obsessively clean solid oak piece with nothing more on it than a white quill, inkwell and an old leather bound ledger. She regarded him silently for a moment, nodding at him to sit in the uncomfortable looking chair that matched the desk it sat in front of. As he sat, Dean realized she was the woman who had exiled Michael, and he swallowed a lump in his throat at the memories that surfaced. Forcing his thoughts back down, Dean smiled in what he hoped was a warm manner rather than a grimace.

“Thank you for showing up in a timely manner, Dean. My name is Naomi, as the last time we met was not conducive to proper introductions. I understand your heat was harder than expected, no doubt due to the events of the past few weeks. I still feel responsible for not acting when Castiel alerted me to a potential problem, and for that I hope you’ll forgive me. This leads me to the current problem, and that is what you expect to do here while you’re in Sorone. Omegas aren’t as common as they used to be, and I know our laws are far more progressive than your old home in Kanse, so I was hoping you might be willing to stay. Given your family history and your incredible resilience, I would hope that you would consider mating my eldest son, but I understand if you’d rather not, though I do suggest taking the time to consider it.” Dean stared at her incredulously as she spoke, shocked silent by her offer to mate her eldest son (which happened to be Castiel with Michael being exiled, his mind unhelpfully reminded him). “That aside, what is it you’d rather do? Your father wasn’t clear on what education you had or what you did before you came here, so unfortunately I don’t have any suggestions.”

“Well, before I presented, I had military training. My father was hoping I’d present as an alpha so I could join the Kanse army, so if possible, I’d like to do that. I mean, it’s been a few years, so I’m probably pretty rusty, but aside from a basic education, it’s the only real training I’ve got. I know it’s unconventional, but if I’m going to...consider your offer, I need time, and I can’t think of a better way for me to spend it.” Dean had hopes that if he entertained her idea of mating Castiel, she would be more inclined to allow him to join the military.

“You really want to be a part of the army? Surely you had more classical training after you presented? There are plenty of opportunities within the safety of the walls that you could attend to.”

“I did, but I hated every second of it. I’m not meant for a domestic setting of any sort. Even if I didn’t go into the army, I’d rather do something physical, instead of sitting inside and doing housework. No offense, but that’s just not me.” Dean could feel a knot building in his throat, hoping she wouldn’t insist.

“It is a bit unusual, and I can’t promise that it will go as you hope, but as much as I’m against the idea, if that’s what you want to do, then there’s certainly a place for you. Take some time to recuperate, and when Ellen clears you, report to the training grounds. There, you’ll meet with the captain in charge of the stables and armory and receive your first orders. Don’t be late. Failure to obey will mean we have no use for you. Thank you for meeting with me, but I have other matters to attend to.”

The dismissal obvious, Dean stood and nodded his head politely before walking out the door and back to his room as fast as possible. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but there was something extremely off-putting about her. He’d been so nervous he’d barely heard what she said to him as she dismissed him. With nothing left to do but kill time for a few weeks, Dean found himself laying on the freshly changed bed, staring at the ceiling while he contemplated what was to come.

***

In the weeks before Dean’s examination with Ellen, he spent a good majority of his time trying to get back into shape, exploring his wing of the compound when he was too tired to continue or felt like doing something different. There wasn’t much to explore, the only things near his room besides other guest rooms being a small garden and a modestly sized library. Most of the books were stuffy, dull written histories of Sorone and the surrounding territories, but he found a few detailing past military strategies that managed to keep his attention. He would often bring one of them out to a small sunny bench in the garden and sit for hours reading, wings fanned out to catch as much sun as possible.

Feathers had started to grow back, but they were small, white quills barely bigger than down feathers. It left him with a band of solid white about five inches across, a stark contrast to the soft browns surrounding it. Ellen had pulled the stitches a few days after his meeting with Naomi with instructions to take it easy and avoid unnecessary movement.

Now, two weeks after he had requested military service and a day after he had been given a clean bill of health from Ellen, he found himself standing on a large dirt covered field with twenty other new recruits, all alphas. Virtually all of them were younger than Dean by at least a half a decade. It was obvious there weren’t many, if any, omegas in Sorone’s military if the looks he was getting were any indication. Some made it a point not to look in his direction, but most made no efforts to hide the way they stared at him. Dean was used to at this point, stares and rude comments had been common when he lived in Kanse. It made no matter to him anyway. It wasn’t them he was here to prove himself to, and he couldn’t afford to start picking fights just because an alpha was leering at him. 

It felt like an eternity of listening to whispers and less than subtle comments before an older alpha with shoulder length black hair and wings to match walked onto the field, effectively silencing the group. Everyone turned to face the newcomer, who wasted no time moving to the front of the group and addressing them.

“Welcome to your first day in hell. My name is Derek, though if I hear you address me as such, your ass will be out the door before you can blink. You will address me with a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’ until I say otherwise. I expect about six or seven of you to actually make it through, so if you’d like to leave now and spare yourself from being eliminated from training, now is your chance. Otherwise, we’re going to go ahead and start with the basics, see where you all stand skill wise and get you sorted into specialized training. If you’ll follow me, we’ll start with hand to hand combat.”

The group shuffled in behind him, walking to a far corner set up with small rings drawn into the dirt and ten other soldiers standing at attention. Derek split them into pairs at random, directing them to stand in the middle of the dirt rings and wait for further instructions. Dean found himself partnered with an alpha who couldn’t be older than eighteen. The alpha seemed to be rather insulted that he had been paired with Dean, who found himself eager for the command to start, if only so he could beat the look off of the idiot’s face.

He didn’t have long to wait, Derek signalling for them to start the moment the last pair had stepped into their own ring. Dean didn’t hesitate, taking the kid by surprise by aiming low and knocking the younger alpha on his ass with a well placed shoulder to the abdomen. He immediately used his position to his advantage, pinning the alpha to ground and landing a solid punch to his face. He grunted with the impact of a fist to his ribs, but it wasn’t enough to knock him off balance. Instead, he dug into the dirt with the arch of his wing and grabbed the kid's arms, keeping him from doing much more than a pathetic wiggle in an effort to knock Dean off of him.

“Submit, dumbass. I won’t hesitate to beat you into a bloody pulp if you really want to push it.” Dean knew the idiot wouldn’t listen, but he’d feel kind of bad for the kid if he didn’t at least give him an out.

“Fuck you, breeder. No way in hell would I submit to a bitch like you.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Dean didn’t bother pulling the next punch, or any of the ones after that. Using his wings to keep him balanced, he landed blow after blow, aiming mostly for the torso. The kid managed to get in a few lucky shots, but most of his time was spent futilely trying to block Dean’s pent up anger, and it wasn’t too long before Derek was calling an end to the exercise. The alpha pulled one last sucker punch when Dean moved to stand up, splitting his lip and thoroughly pissing him off. Without thought, Dean swung his left wing straight into the kid’s temple, knocking him out cold and allowing Dean to stand up, no worse for wear.

“The fuck happened to him?” Dean jumped at the sound of Derek’s voice right behind him, turning to face him.

“I gave him a chance to surrender when I had him pinned. He declined.”

“Well, I’m not too happy that you beat him half to death, but not bad. I don’t think I need to put you up against anyone else, pretty sure you could handle it.” Derek nodded to Dean before turning to address the rest of the group. “Everyone who isn’t on their ass in the dirt, follow me. We’ll try your skills at armed combat next.”

Most of the group followed Derek quickly enough, only one or two favoring a leg or a wing as they moved. The alpha Dean had been paired up with was carted off, cut from training for a year or so until they let him try again.

They moved to another corner of the field, this one set up with the standard straw dummies and a pile of short, dulled practice blades. Dean had never been the best with a sword, but he focused on remembering what he had been taught in the short time he’d been allowed to train for the Kanse army and managed to walk away without embarrassing himself too badly with his obvious lack of practice and skill. 

Archery followed armed combat, and despite the years since Dean had held a longbow, he managed to hit the bullseye multiple times, falling somewhere in the middle of the group in terms of skill. By this point, most of the alphas left in the group were staring at him with contempt or confusion rather than lust, and Dean couldn’t really say which he preferred. Still, as long as they didn’t bother him, he really didn’t give a rat’s ass what they thought of him or whispered behind his back. He was fairly confident that he was good enough to be accepted as infantry, and after that point, his only goal was to not die in combat. Despite what he had told Naomi and how the blue eyed alpha had treated him through his heat, he didn’t have any intention of being mated.

The group stopped in front of the stables in the last corner of the training field, where twenty riding horses of various colors were saddled and waiting. Some of the alphas looked as confused as Dean felt. Kanse had never had a cavalry, finding the added cost and maintenance to be too much to bother with. As a result, Dean had only a minimal amount of time aback a horse. Hopefully enough to keep him from falling off before everyone else.

Derek called for them to pick a horse and move to the front of a grass track behind the stable for the last exercise of the day. The seven horses without new recruits riding them were mounted by the officers who had been escorting them along with Derek. They took up random spots along the track, likely to catch any stray horses who managed to lose their riders. Dean had picked a larger bay mare and swung himself into the saddle with only a little bit of a wobble. He was happy to learn he remembered the basics, and had no trouble guiding the mare to the starting line. The remaining recruits finally managed to form something that looked like a line at the start of the track, and no sooner had they gotten lined up a whistle had sounded and everyone was off.

Dean’s mare proved to be eager to run, grabbing the bit from him and taking off with him barely hanging on for dear life. It was lucky she knew what to do, giving him time to get acclimated and find his balance. Wings half open on either side of him to help him stay in the saddle, he loosened his grip on the reins and let her run, enjoying the feeling of wind whipping through his feathers. Quick glances on either side of him showed that all but one alpha was a competent enough rider to stay seated and keep up with him, and there were about four who were still ahead of him.

Halfway around the track, another alpha lost his seat when his gelding took to bucking and twisting, stopping the second the kid hit the ground and calmly walking off to a patch of grass out of the way of the rest of the group. Another competitor down and the finish line in sight seemed to get everyone eager to win, and soon the air was filled with the sound of shouts and slaps as the horses were encouraged to run faster. Dean simply chuckled at their antics, giving his mare a pat on the neck and shifting his weight forward and down, reducing wind resistance and giving her the chance to stretch out and pick up the pace with ease.

Only one more alpha was unseated before they managed to cross the finish line, Dean coming in an easy second. He guided his mare back to the front of the stables, dismounting and handing the reins to a stable boy waiting at the front of the building to collect the horses. Dean followed the small crowd back to the center of the dirt field, led by Derek who turned to address them the moment he stopped.

“Despite the shitshow you guys have put on today, there’s more of you left than I thought there would be. If you’re standing here in front of me, congratulations. You’ve made it into the Sorone army. Tonight, I want you to report to the western camp. Try to get some sleep, training starts tomorrow. You’ll meet with the commander of the western camp and you will be given your assignments then. Good luck, most of you are gonna need it.” With a short salute, Derek dismissed the lot of them, walking off towards the stables without a second glance back.

Those that had made it slowly wandered off of the training field and down a long dirt path that wound its way through a small patch of trees. Eventually the trees gave way to a large collection of tents and soldiers scattered across a massive sandy clearing. An older alpha with light gray wings came out to meet them and assign them to their own tents. Nobody in the camp gave Dean a second glance, leaving him to retire to his tent in peace.

It wasn’t big by any means, barely ten feet in diameter. There was a mound of furs in one corner made to be a bed and a small wooden chest filled with matching clothes, all in the same deep blue and pale gold material. Stripping out of his clothes and changing into some of the new ones, Dean crawled onto the fur pile, pulling the largest one up to use as a blanket. Tomorrow started his new life. It couldn’t be much worse than it had been before.


End file.
